Scene #7556: Dragon's Garden-Sakura

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	A neat stretch of silent shore. Glassy waves sloshing over level white sands. An immense wall of ghastly fog in the distance, rising sharply upward for miles from offshore, blotting out all sight of the ocean. A crescent valley between two walls of steep white cliffs. Zigzagging dirt paths lined with wooden posts and stone jinzo abandoned a generation ago. Rural Japanese houses unchanged in design for three hundred years, but with timbers and screens and local clay certainly far newer. The steep rise of lush coastal forest and rocky bamboo thickets that cuts off the seething mists away from the shore. A packed dirt road to one end, a weathered torii to the other. Familiar to some, to others, a vision of an old countryside the world forgot, no more connected to current events than a single obsolete radio at an old-fashioned inn, which no one has ever called a 'hotel'. Far more recently, an earthen yard now increasingly filled with camo green and rescue orange stacks of plastic crates. A squat generator spiked into the ground on four legs, running a hose down to a distiller in the shallows. Cables feeding a tiny warpgate platform, ten minutes between charges, but others feeding to an aluminium connector tower and spreading to small flood lamps and space heaters all around, following the lines of fences and threaded under housing stilts. A barnhouse by a flooded paddy stuffed with unsorted saws and presses and parts for a microtractor. Some sort of radio mast on the cliff with a router and server block. Carbon fibre windmills atop the other, alongside a weather post. A half-assembled drill by a genuine stone well. Sheds now filled with thoroughly collected and organized fibreglass and tool steel accoutrements. Some of it predates Elite arrival by some years. Much has slowly trickled in over months. The ghosts that slumber in an unplanned cemetary near the coastal cave represent those who had attempted to re-settle this place once before. The current accommodations suggest the mundane needs of the living There hasn't been a whole lot of need to return here since initially retrieving the Muramasa blade that had marked this place, investigating the underground lake referred to as 'the Dragon's Garden' a little, re-warding the borders and venturing outside into the dark glasslands to eliminate the 'node' Antegent nearby. The imports suggest having been brought in piecemeal, at an unremarkable rate, thrown together in spare hours of the week, making no dent on a spreadsheet. The reason this time is purely social. One for which Lilian had grabbed together a few, and the ASIS through Momoyo electing a youkai representative. 'To meet someone', ostensibly. That person isn't waiting politely somewhere outside, but rather, it seems what was once a mayoral house has been thoroughly occupied, in almost the military sense. Tall men in tall sandals and full-face masks stood imposingly at all entrances and exits. Unhidden arrays at feng shui points around the premises. Locks and bars on the gates. Some . . . old dude? With a little cap. Out the front. With a lady in unmistakable red and white attire, and yet another mask, this one styled like a white fox. Going inside appears to be the point, as the lights are on (candles though?) and smoke (kind of violet) comes from the top, but the whole moving party seems intent to completely stonewall everyone at the gates (oddly, Tamamo excepted), asking 'who they represent', and then one question, unfortunately cryptic and obstinately unexplained by the little old guy: "If a man has no need of money or pride, what will he fight for?"
Gawain	Gawain is here, suit, tie, pants, and gloves. Blonde chad knight, built like a gorilla. There's a dagger wrapped to his back, radiating power, but it is Not A Weapon. He's making sure he always has it, for now. "Sir Gawain, Knight of the Sun, Warden of the Paladins." Is how Gawain introduces himself, before turning to the little old guy. "For those who need them. Those who can't fight, who are in a struggle, where fighting must happen to keep them safe." It's a riddle, but Gawain just literally parsed it how he always would and answered it casually, like it was a general question.
Hellwarming Trio	Rin: "To get paid!" Utsuho: "No, that'd be money." Rin: "Oh. But... What if they're paid in other stuff? Like bodies or cool gadgets?" Utsuho: "That's kinda money, isn't it?" Somehow, someway, a pair of youkai have managed to bumble their way into this meeting. The strange surroundings had kept their attention glued to everything but chattering away earlier, largely because of everything looking so strangely foreign to them even with how strange most of the modern world has seemed already. After hanging around Rider Services and company for so long, they've actually picked up on a thing or two about behaving! Sort of. They're still not above pointing at stuff and people to get each other's attention, especially at the old dude and the moving party at the gates. They're dressed in their usual white and greenish-black getups, and they don't try to hide the fact that they're getting stumped by the old man's question. Utsuho: "For fun, then?" Rin: "Nah, that's still really pride-y. But if you don't need pride or money... Oh! What if it's to protect weaklings?" Utsuho: "Don't humans like saying 'the weak' instead? It's more polite."
Tamamo	Though the weather had been something call for wardrobe changes recently, for this meeting, Tamamo's gone back to her usual formality. Blue-white robes, black-gold sleeves and ribbons, shining choker and hairpins with hanging bells, and so on. The grass reeds tucked into her sash look very much alive enough to be replanted, rather than decorative, but her smile doesn't betray any hint to their purpose. As she is not stopped at the gate, she continues on, though she pauses long enough to catch the answers given. It's a question that had interested her, as well, though she'd given no answer to it of her own, last time she heard it asked.
James Bond	>Who do you represent? "I don't represent." It's true. Words like that aren't used for men like this. Those tall men in the tall sandals should know that to look at James Bond. "Do you really want the whole story?" He is only slightly trying to be difficult. If pressed, he does come forward--that he works for a Britain far from here. That is as far as he goes, unless specific questions are asked. He's a specific answers, need to know kind of guy. The movers ought to know this, too, to look at him--the polo shirt, the windbreaker, the nice slacks and the boat shoes were deliberate choices to convey a certain message. 'Professional.' >If a man has no need of money or pride, what will he fight for? "His family, or, if he's unlucky, his country," answers Bond with a wry smile. More seriously: "He'll find something. Or he'll lose himself." It's his belief that people are strongest when they know who their enemy is.
Strawberry Princess	Strawberry Princess adjusts her wand case's strap restlessly as the assorted Elites walk towards the obviously-inhabited building- she can never quite get it into a comfortable position around her shoulders. Maybe it's the fidgeting itself that's comfortable, a constant reminder of that familiar twenty-pound weight. It symbolizes, probably, something good. Gawain gets her silent acknowledgement; they don't really know each other, but he's a familiar presence by now too. The three Obvious Youkai that are present get more of an explicit smile and wave. So does one of the sandal-wearing guards, too, even if they look way too severe for it. Strawberry has a persistent urge to Greet The Help; the nagging habit of someone lower-class to specifically notice people trying to make themselves beneath notice. "I- I wouldn't know," she responds in a slightly embarrassed voice. "I'm not a guy. But it'd be- the same as anybody else, right?"
Muramasa	Having been here for a fair portion of the excursions to the secluded village, slowly but surely being re-taken with time and manpower, Muramasa politely ensures that he isn't in anyone's way as he routes himself around the various plastic crates and other bits and bobs that the people studying and taking work-residence in the area had brought and left. He tip-toes around the cables so that he does not jostle them, stepping carefully over them so that he does not trip. His reasons for coming here were two-fold. First and foremost, the hotspring here was easily his favorite and he'd utilize every opportunity provided to him in order to revitalize his weary body in them. Secondly, there was someone here that according to Lilian, he would like to speak to. He supposed she was right, after hearing a little more about them, and the topics they'd likely wish to speak of. Adusting his haori with a mild exasperation in his eyes, he places a hand on his hip, unpleasant lines scrunching on his face. "Huh? Did some warlord take over this place while I wasn't lookin'?" Clicking his tongue, a more cantankerous part of himself that he had to reign in suggested he walk off and lounge in the spring for the rest of the trip's duration, and allow the others to take care of the talking. But really, wasn't that just being spiteful? Telling himself not to get bothered by that kind of stiff treatment, he breathes out of his nose before straightening his posture. "Saber, Muramasa. I'm a Servant, so call me whatever you feel like, I guess. Unlike Gawain, who's here on official business, I basically came for personal reasons." If a man has no need of money or pride, what will he fight for? "An ideal; something that only his mind's eye can place in its gaze." Perhaps that ideal was something grand, or perhaps it was something small and personal. Fighting for a loved one, fighting for a country, fighting for something more elemental than that .. there were any number of reasons, but they'd all find their root in the notion of fighting for a 'reason' rather than something as base as pride or gain.
Hellwarming Trio	It's not until after hammering away at that second question for a while that the raven and the cat finally realize they never answered the first one. Following the leads of almost everyone else, they strike a pose not unlike body builders flexing and showing off their biceps (except in this case it's wings and tails, respectively). Utsuho: "Utsuho Reiuji!" Rin: "Rin Kaenbyou!" Both: "And we represent hell!" They sound more eager than threatening, at least.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Who DO you represent? "I represent the SONS OF BITCHES who kicked PIRATE RADIO CHANNEL ANTEGENT off the AIRWAVES, yo! PRINCESS HAUGHTY, that LILIAN ROOK chick, she gets REPPED by me on the REGULAR, UNFORTUNATELY FOR HER." He cackles a little there. "FUCKED UP, huh? I ain't got FACTIONS to rep these days, so just pencil me in under whatever THAT means." >Arthur: So, if a man has no need of money or pride, what will he fight for? "PAIN." Arthur says almost instantly. "He FIGHTS so he can GET HURT. Give me a HARD ONE, grill me 'bout some WHITE STONES ON A HILL or go find ya TWIN THAT ONLY TELLS LIES or somethin', THIS is the question I been ANSWEERIN' to ANYONE WHO LISTENS. Anyone who ain't got NEEDS has gotta FIGHT so he can keep some HUMANITY in 'im, and ya do that with SUFFERING, dawg!" He crosses his arms and cracks his shit-eating grin. "So can I get UP IN THIS BUSINESS, bro?"
Lilian Rook	Being stopped at the door to answer questions, each person in turn gets the feeling that the wizened old guy with the short silver beard (which he habitually strokes in contemplation at each answer) is listening for more than just their words. Rather, it's almost as if the words themselves are a formality. Like he's reading into something much deeper, perhaps more 'honest', in the process of answering in. Stepping aside graciously for Tamamo, he says 'You are welcome.' to Gawain, 'A cynic. Unfortunate, but you may enter.' to James Bond, 'Ah, the fox's substitute. Very well.' to Utsuho and Rin, a very Japanese 'Amusing. Go on ahead.' with a mysterious old man smile to Strawberry, oddly 'May you find the answers you seek.' to Arthur, and then 'Ah, now I see what she meant.' to Muramasa, silently moving himself out of the way and bowing slightly. However, Strawberry's efforts to socialize with the Help are in vain. Not only is she ignored with the stoicism of a Buckingham guard, but with a sort of strange and unfamiliar sense of 'pride'. Like it is she, in fact, who is beneath them. Something about them feels abnormal. Even barefoot, they'd still somehow be considerably taller than even her, and all that poofy black wrapping obscures pretty much their entire bodies. The red lacquer masks can't be practical either. After enough bothering, she has to turn around just in time to notice she's being watched by someone else from the trees uphill. There's only so exciting the inside of an old townhouse like this can be. If you've seen authentic handmade pressed screen doors and tatami mats, and some hardwood floors scuffed with age and love, you've kind of seen it all. Indeed though, there are no electric lights --or electric anything as a matter of fact-- inside, instead warmed (perhaps unnecessarily) by a profusion of red candles. It kind of feels like there couldn't be this many corridors, and shouldn't be this many doors in a row, in a house like this, and yet it's a somewhat labyrinthine trudge away from any sign of windows and past a number of esoteric wall scrolls before arriving at where Tamamo is let in and Lilian is waiting. What was previously a living room, it seems, stripped of all its former portable possessions, but with its box shelves filled anew with scrolls and bottles and its table surrounded with silk cushions, long, low desks dedicated to a number of unidentifiable, if colourful, potted plants and ornamental fans, and at the center, a tiny bonsai of an especially white and out of season cherry tree, next to a miniature steel idol of a buddha, a jade dragon, and a gold bell.
Lilian Rook	The only other person in the room is infinitely less imposing, and much less serious, than the ones outside. A girl even shorter than Arthur, lent the somewhat exaggerated, ostentatious presence of an incredibly valuable doll by wearing enough layers and layers of red and white kimono that it's hard to find her hands, and having that kind of exceptionally long and well-maintained 'Japanese princess' hair, down to the mat, blue-black and tied only at the end in gold rings. Eyes more yellow than brown, corners painted red, follow each person through the door in sequence, once she puts down her brush and directs them to sit. Outside of apparently having already been talking a little bit to those inside first, she smiles without reservation at Arthur, and says "It's very good to see you again." in a kind of polite and formal way exceeded only by Tamamo's maximum range. When everyone finds a seat, she mimics the habit of clearing one's throat before speaking, without actually making any noise, and then lightly scoops a fan up from the table. "Greetings, to all of you. For certain reasons, I cannot introduce myself as I would dearly like to, but for the purposes of what I hope may become friendship, you may freely call me 'Sakura'." she says. The origin of the pseudonym is obviously on the table in front of her. "I would like to try and make matters simple, so I will say that I became aware of this place and your hard work through unique and secure methods. Normally, I am not permitted to travel freely, but this is an exceptional case. I ask of you the use of this place for the purpose of placing a sanctum and the measured use of the Dragon's Garden, in exchange for certain services and the dedicated work of my friends." Does she mean the people outside. "And, if I must speak plainly, I beg of you that I may have your aid in ending the curse of the Forty-Four Muramasa blades, in exchange for leaving a certain number of them in your possession." She lowers her head slightly. "No, some of them must be yours."
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Do the thing! Arthur fingerguns and winks under his sunglasses. "WHAT UP, SAKURA. Got'cha ya ISLAND, glad t'see ya SETTLIN' on it." He greets her too, leaning back. "Y'ALL know my POSITION 'bout this, I'm hella chill with SWORD QUEST. The GARDEN was lookin' rad when I took a SWIM, s'long as you dudes NOT gonna FUCK UP THE ECOSYSTEM or nothin', I don't got BEEF." He crosses his arms and lolls his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "PROBABLY ain't gonna POACH SWORDS. But I gotta make sure enough get to YOU, and if I find out any of 'em got some stuff for SOLVIN' A SPECIFIC PROBLEM I got, I'mma snag. Aside from that, I'm IN THIS as long as our FIGHT is GOOD. So far it's been ANTEGENT BASTARDS and a couple SHITHEAD ASSASSIN types, and I'm all about gettin' my KNUCKLES KNOCKED with some ANTEGENT BASTARDS and SHITHEAD ASSASSINS."
Gawain	As Gawain is told he's welcome, he bows his head, and passes through. He's not unfamiliar with Japanese aesthetic, but the tiny overly made-up Japanese princess type girl is a surprise. Even so, he gives her the same courteous bow a knight would to a princess, as he introduces himself. "Sir Gawain, Knight of the Sun, Warden of the Paladins. I came to assist my allies here. I am vaguely aware of, having read up, on the curse of the Muramasa blades. You will have my assistance in ending such a curse, as long as it is a blight on the people and the land. Tell me, though." Gawain looks over to the others as he asks. "Why must we keep some?"
James Bond	Bond graciously nods at the old man, though there's a quiet ember of impish amusement at being so accurately read on such scant first impressions. He enters. Wonder of wonders, he's mannerly, and in the way these people may expect, too. Though he's very clearly not from around here, he knows about the neighborhood. He's quiet when he's taken his seat until 'Sakura' has said her piece. He isn't picky about where he sits, either. All of these people, save Muramasa, he's at least met before--though Strawberry is likely the one he's said the least to, among that group. "The man out front knows my name," says Bond. "So I imagine you do, too." His crash course in magic continues--but as much pains as these people have taken to arrange this meeting just so, he wouldn't be surprised if by some strange tugging, at whatever unseen thread, she were to know already. If not more--the man out front has a way. "Just for the sake of pleasantries, it's Bond. James Bond." He inclines his head respectfully. There's a flick of his cold eyes towards Arthur, who claims he's not here to poach swords. Neither is Bond--but there are people here with shared interests. Gawain brings up the question, and he takes the initiative to respond. A pre-mission briefing goes a long way towards presenting as 'informed.' MI-6 is very thorough. "I understand there's a special concern with custody of the swords. Based on your way of phrasing, I'm guessing that concern still exists even when the curse is broken. Is that correct?"
Hellwarming Trio	With the first 'puzzle' solved, the duo smack their open palms together as they start bugging familiar faces while heading further in. Strawberry Princess gets recognizing stares and them both swarming around her briefly, including Utsuho outright asking (quietly, at least) "Does this place feel weird to you? Like someone blew it up and fixed it before we got here?" Tamamo, meanwhile, gets some cautious looks, although Rin does manage to get close enough to scamper around her and gesture at the old man. "Do you know that guy? Or the people here? They're treatin' ya and... Uh. That guy pretty different." She gestures at Muramasa at that last part, looking between the two as if trying to piece something together about them both. She won't get far. James, meanwhile, has Utsuho and Rin both initially starting towards him, then doing an about face to huddle up with each other. They're not very subtle about it, either, as they keep glancing in his direction without outright approaching. Alas, their huddle is ended when they have to start focusing on actually getting through the building without messing the floor and all the delicate stuff strewn about. They point at the stuff, sure, but they're actually quite good about not knocking things over. Upon reaching the meeting area, they resume gawking just long enough before noticing two more unfamiliar faces: Lilian and Sakura. Utsuho and Rin introduce themselves again (complete with declaring that they're just from hell), then listen closely as the terms are laid out. Utsuho: "So if we help you end this curse, we'll get-" Rin: "-a buncha swords? We're in, sis!" Utsuho: "Are we getting the swords before or after the curses are removed?" Rin: "And what kinda curse is on these things, anyway? Ya know. In case we get 'em without taking 'em off for a while."
Strawberry Princess	Strawberry's attention is pried away from the obstinately taciturn guard by the funny feeling that she's being watched. Someone's up on that hill, she knows- she can see it, just barely, out of the corner of her eye. She resists the temptation to turn her head to face them, though- that'd be too obvious. Instead she quietly reaches back and squeezes her wand's carrying case in a specific spot. It hums to life quietly, like a fluorescent lightbulb, feeding her just enough power. 04:59 Invisible, ghostly selves flow off of her, spreading out and gliding up towards the figure on the hill. Who's watching them, exactly? Is it another guard? Strawberry's Heart Ability, fortunately, gives her a natural faculty for multitasking. Even as her eidolons' senses play out in the back of her mind, she's able to carry herself... well, not with dignity and grace exactly, but at least no more gracelessly than she normally does. She tries to seat herself in imitation of 'Sakura', immediately discovers how agonizingly hard Seiza actually is, and then reverts to a dumb cross-legged posture. "It's- good to meet you," she says, her timid voice lending itself well to imitation of demure tones. "I'm not... I only know kind of vaguely, about the curse. Could you- elaborate on that? If it's not too big a subject."
Tamamo	Tamamo listens to each answer in turn, though with ears of that size, she likely doesn't need to be too close to the entrance to manage it. "Not quite," she says to Muramasa. She can tell who's here from the choice of guards (who she knows well enough not to bother). "What might that particular hell's interests be, then? It has been this long since I have seen you, though I suppose I had heard you recently. Ahh, yes, this shall by a second meeting," she says to the pair of animal youkai. "Oh, have you also studied that man's teachings? Though it was the inevitability of suffering, rather than its intrinsic quality, of which he spoke," she says to Arthur. "Of course," she says to the least important of Sakura's comments, "we are already acquainted, whether names are given, or not." When she sits, it's not with that highest of formality, though the significance of shifting from seiza to wariza is likely to be noticed by few. For those, it's one of several, likely intentional, notes of 'I am already at home' in her posture. She is here to be asked a favor, after all. "I hold some interest in the curse of the blades. It shall be no trouble to retain this position. Are you yet aware of this number? Of this sanctum, and of your interests in the Dragon's Garden, I hope to hear more."
Muramasa	Feeling the need to mind his manners, Muramasa returns the elderly shortstack's bow with a lighter bow of his own to indicate both a mutual greeting and gratitude at being hosted -- his upper body and head tilting downwards -- just past formal, but not quite at being casual. There was no need to cause a big scene by overly deepening his bow, he felt, and with that out of the way he enters the building with the rest. That the building seemed to carry so much within it despite its size was not necessarily a surprise. Many such complexes were designed with such things in mind, although he could not help but feel it was un-natural in this particular instance. A half-remembered night came to mind, as he recalled that for high-level thaumaturges, folding and stretching space to make things bigger on the inside than they should be would ultimately be considered child's play. Muramasa quirks an amused eyebrow at 'Sakura' and her appearance. He hadn't seen a girl so formally dressed up since that Tokugawa princess back in Shimousa, Matsudaira's daughter, as he recalled. He himself was garbed in only two layers; a simple red hakama worn over a hakashimata colored red on the outside and with white folds on the inside, and his signature, floral-patterned white haori draped over it. Rather than worn around his arm, the Shroud of Martin was wrapped around his neck like a scarf. Muramasa sits on his knees, pausing slightly to consider his response, "Any business you have down there, you'd have to take it up with what resides there. The best you can hope for is to learn from that old story about Taro Urashima, right? Ha ha." Though, he supposed that Tamamo's words on that would be worth more than his own. "As for the swords, I suppose I feel somewhat responsible, so I'll gladly lend my aid where I can. However, those two --" he motions to Reiuji and Rin, " -- are not permitted to have them under any circumstance. That's my only real stipulation, for now." The idea of them swinging around some of the stuff he'd made was a genuine disaster waiting to happen. He had to nip that in the bud. Really, if it came down to it posing a problem as to who got custody of what, he'd rather just shatter the lot of them.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Reply to chatter A quick glance back to Bond. Arthur relishes opportunities to effortlessly already have an in on things. He flicks his sunglasses up and down in a short adjustment, a little satisfied gesture. Something always very enjoyable about being able to sit in the Cool Kids' Context. As for Tamamo: "NAW, I ain't ever STUDIED nothin' in my LIFE. I ain't about that NERD STUFF. This is just COMMON SENSE. If you're lucky enough to HAVE NO NEEDS and NO OBLIGATE SUFFERING, ya gotta go FIND SOME, otherwise that MIND is only gonna get HALF THE FEEDBACK and it'll start MELTIN' OUT THAT SKULL."
Lilian Rook	Outdoors, Strawberry's Eidolons discover that the person surveiling her hasn't moved. A young man wrapped up in enough dark greens, verging on black, to melt into the forest shadow even were he not also entrenched in carefully arranged layers of bent greenery; likely a consummate professional. On ostensibly instinct alone, he begins looking around for a few moments as he is invisibly surrounded, but lacking means to see or hear anything amiss, he goes back to patiently watching the house. The suspicious nature of the activity declines over time, as she realizes he isn't watching the guards, the old man, or the silent miko at all, but rather, seemingly staring through the wall at where the current meeting room should be, watching windows and doors. That is, he's watching the Elites, rather than the estate. He's probably under the same employ. Inside, Sakura, as before, seems to find Arthur hilarious, but standards must that she hide it behind either sleeve or fan. Between James and Gawain though, she says, with rather old-fashioned choices of honourifics behind the words, "Sir Bond is correct. It isn't just a sentimental matter, but an imperative one." Her eyes then sort of . . . blank out for a second. Lilian catches it weirdly quickly, fake coughing to draw her attention back. "Ah, but, also, something that simply 'must be'. My apologies, I don't know how to explain it. Usually Oboro-sensei would be able to think of more helpful words, but I argued at length to be allowed to speak to you by myself." she adds, distantly. She nods to Strawberry and the two youkai, saying "Of course. I expected I would need to explain anyways." Pushing aside her brush, she unrolls a long sheet of freshly made parchment paper, apparently inked with the outlines of eleven rows of four katana of varying sizes and shapes, strangely in different states of completion, some merely inked silhouettes, while some are detailed with artisinal precision in their rendering. "The legendary swordsmith, Sengo Muramasa, was long said to have produced swords with an evil reputation, just cursed to doom their wielders as they were perfectly made. However, this is a superstitious, and deliberate, misrepresentation of historic fact." Her eyes wander the page along with her finger, rather than remaining properly focused on people. "Near the very end of his life, Muramasa, despairing of the wartorn era, met with a certain oracle to enquire as to whether his swords would ever be put to rest; that is, about the end of war. The answer he received plagued him so greatly that, after his death, his soul was unable to rest, and neither hell nor samsara could claim it."
Lilian Rook	"After his own death, Muramasa spent over a century labouring over his swords, drawing upon otherworldly powers and the living conspirators of his school of smithing, in an effort to create an 'ultimate blade' of sorts. In this time, he created a grand total of forty-four posthumous swords, collectively known as the 'Grave Blade' set. Each one, he deemed a failure, and cast aside, despite their immense, eclectic powers; each a sword that 'cuts something that should not be cut', yet unable to sever the thing he sought. It is said that his forty-fifth and final work was when he finally achieved his goal, and passed on, but its whereabouts are completely hidden, allegedly only alluded in riddle and rhyme, broken up across forty-four poems etched upon each previous sword." "The ill-omens, negative karma, and the touch of death that surrounds his last swords, weaves a well-known curse; that anyone who so possesses exactly four of these blades at the same time shall come to swift and inescapable ruin. Some say this is even an intentional feature that he foresaw need of, as it could be called the most important thing that maintains the distribution of blades, thus much of the balance of power, between the surviving clans of the present day who now hold them." Reaching under the table, Sakura gingerly withdraws, and then deposits, a cherrywood rack ostensibly meant for the proper arrangement of a samurai's three swords, but instead set with three full length katana, each wrapped up in heavy cloth, one black, one white, and one a silvery grey. "Those swords . . . Weren't meant to pass down to anyone, though. Surely, they've been used for a great deal of good, but that was only an accident, because of the horrible things that happened forty-five years ago. It was never Muramasa's will that humans use those discarded orphans for their own purposes. And because of that, something terrible is going to happen. I represent . . . No, our group represents me, that this state of things can't continue. That very very soon, we will need that last sword." A nervous smile tweaks her painted lips. "If it would make you worry otherwise, please know that the certain oracle I described is my great to the tenth grandmother. There was a will, at one point, that he leave those failures with her line, but they were all seized by Oda Nobunaga's 'katanagari', then Hideyoshi, and the Meiji, and scattered over and over." The smile slowly disappears. "I know where they are now. Th-that is, I'm the only one who knows where all of them are, at all times. And I know that someone is about to do something they cannot take back. I'm incredibly grateful that you were able to retrieve the Muramasa of Distortions before, from this place, but now, including the Muramasa of Beginnings and the Muramasa of Endings that I already inherited, we now possess three blades, and cannot simply take a fourth. And so I require someone else's assistance to, at least, hold some of the swords. And if I may be so bold, help my friends bring the rest home." She shakes her head quite emphatically for Muramasa, with little jinglings of gold rings like khakkhara. "No no, of course not! The Dragon's Garden-- I know of it and its history. I'd actually like to offer . . . a-ah . . . You could say that I have talents as a . . . doctor? A sage. I know that you plan to settle wayward souls here once again, and I think it's a noble effort! But I think you would find it best to use that resource well, after how long it is has silently saved this valley. If we are allowed to house some of the blades here, and if I may intrude, 'away quarters', my friends and I would be more than glad to help you."
Tamamo	"Ah, yes, I understand," Tamamo says to Arthur, even if only meaning that she understands this aspect of his philosophy on immortality. He's been consistent in it. There's some quieter side-chatter on the swords even before Sakura gets to her explanation, with Tamamo refraining from voicing her specific support of Muramasa's position that the youkai pair not run off with them. It probably won't come to that. Though how they might be otherwise placated... she'll think on it. It's not as if she can't see them paid off. It's only that she wouldn't say aloud that she was doing so. Terrible things could happen to swords lost in even a mostly-abandoned hell, and she'd like to get to know that master of theirs a bit better, even if she seemed responsible. Having not heard her say much to any of this, Tamamo turns to Lilian. "There will be no trouble caused by allowing for a small number of part-time residents, yes? Though we may wish for the space to be well-used, and so, it is not our first goal, the company would be pleasantly kept." And her particular skills and support might be useful, though that can be brought up in detail later. To Sakura, "In that case, I see no reason to refuse." As if just remembering it, "Ah, but you spoke of a sanctum, and I wished to hear more of that topic. Are you planning some new dwelling?" Probably not, but it's phrased as mere curiosity.
Hellwarming Trio	Utsuho and Rin lean, one to each side, as Sakura gets the diagrams of the katanas laid out. They study each one closely, not because they'll remember any of them in particular, but because it's better than the alternative of guaranteeing that they won't remember a thing by the time they leave. At least this way, they might retain a few. Or Rin might. Utsuho: "So forty-four rejects before he got to the good one at forty-five. That must've taken a long time." Rin: "But if he was already dead by then, he probably had plenty of it." Utsuho: "Enough time to write poems on every one, yeah." Rin: "But if holding four of 'em'll kill anyone, then that means..." Rin starts taking a headcount of everyone in that room, pausing when Sakura brings out her own three blades. "Okay, so you've got three, then there's... Uhuh, and... Nine of us right here!" She announces confidently, drawing a skeptical look from Utsuho. "So we'd still need... Yeah, five of your closer friends for the rest if we're all getting three by the end." Utsuho concludes while flashing a smug grin at Muramasa and getting a confused look from Rin (who's starting another headcount). "And if anyone does grab one too many, we can always take care of the body so whatever that one's holding doesn't get lost somewhere else." She recommends with a broad grin of her own, although she does scrunch her face up after a few moments. "But what's this about orphans? And forty-five years ago?"
Muramasa	Quietly listening to the tale of the other man named Sengo Muramasa, he felt something stir inside -- yes, indeed. Something like that ... certainly, he could relate to it. In his lifetime, he did not see any such oracle. That, perhaps, was the largest and most important difference in their lives lived back then. When he had died, it had been tasting the bitter tang of defeat, not a literal one, but a defeat of self. He had not created the ultimate sword that could slice apart the wickedness of his era, and in the end, he had used up his entire life never having once lived as a human being. Sengo Muramasa found peace in accepting the life he had lived and passing on, placing his hope on the next people of Japan, and the new day that he wished would dawn. A small glimmer of light, just for every person who lived there ... that was what he died with. If for whatever reason he had been presented with such a thing that would betray him so, then ... he could see why. He also would not have been able to accept things as they were. He would think something like, 'it cannot end this way' and like a grudge, he was sure his obsession would persist. It was that very obsession which started twisting up his work, to begin with. Swords. Swords that entered the realm of god. Swords that fell into hell. Muramasa, in just about any world where that name is known, is known for such things ... but his deepest wish was -- "The one I am most interested in seeing is his finished product .. where that Sengo Muramasa's path led him to. I have not found my conclusion, but I feel close. Does his answer resemble mine? I would like to know. Think of my assistance as a form of self-satisfaction." Opening his eyes, he casts his gaze upon the three swords revealed to them, and he takes them into his inner world, Tracing them. The material they were created with. The method of manufacturing. Their accumulated history. One, the Muramasa of Distortions, he'd already gained back then, and now it was joined inside of the world of his soul by the Muramasa of Beginnings, and the Muramasa of Endings. His face forms a half-crooked smile at 'Sakura' as she finishes explaining, her timidity and attempts at being so formal just making him want to rustle her hair. Perhaps it was the old man inside of him, but it was just too endearing. "Very well. I cannot think of a good argument against your point, so I'll agree with you instead. Although ... so Hideoyoshi got his grubby, greedy paws on some of 'em? ...just remembering his face makes me wanna' puke. I can't believe it." It'd been pretty close to the end of his tragically long life, but he had met the man, once. Rather than continuing to recall it, he pushes it out of his mind. "There's something I was thinking of storing here, anyway, so that kind of arrangement would work out in the end."
James Bond	Someone is about to do something they can't take back. "That seems to be going around these days, doesn't it?" muses Bond. There's a glance towards Lilian. For a moment, he lets it through--the haunting knowledge that he's already done such a thing--and it appears on his face in that brief moment. It is gone just as quickly, when he occupies himself with the table, wearing that neutral stone mask once more. "Curses, prophecies, unlucky numbers--all Greek to me. I didn't put the hours in to tidy this place up, either. So I have no say in whether you use it, or how. I'm not the sort that makes terms or accepts them, like Tamamo or Dame Rook. But someone with something dangerous intent on using it recklessly, that I can work with." When his eyes flick back upwards to meet hers, they are cold and purposeful in a way that human eyes shouldn't be. "You have a name for me?" She knows where each of the swords are. Is it possible her sight extends beyond that--to the ambitious hands which seek to grasp them? There's a weight in that question. A sense that the name ought not to be given lightly to one like Bond. The tension eases slightly when Utsuho asks her questions. "The swords are orphans because they were made to reach a summit--not to have masters. Something about that makes sense to me. I wish I knew why."
Strawberry Princess	Strawberry seems to be having some difficulty parsing the whole 'curse' thing until she hits upon a kind of realization, and thereafter follows perfectly, nodding with an air of sympathetic concern. It's like nuclear waste. Too much of it in one place and it starts doing bad things. Right? "But," she says- cautiously, carefully- "the people who hold them now. They won't... want to give them up, right? If that's the idea. They're important to the balance of power, you said, so..." She rubs the side of her face with an evident discomfort. "Sorry, I'm- bad at understanding. I want to be sure I get it right." Outside, one of her eidolons sits down companionably next to the young man in green. She doesn't turn it visible- she has the idea that he'd maybe do something bad if she spooked him, pretty reasonably- but it's nice to just exist next to somebody in companionable silence. Even if that companionable-ness is wholly one-sided. That's not creepy, is it?
Gawain	Gawain listens to the explanations about Muramasa patiently. He glances to Their Muramasa a few times. Once all is said is done, he doesn't speak for the others on the property, which he didn't work on, but instead joins Bond. "Let us know who our enemies are, and where we can acquire other swords, and we will strike. I am willing to take some off your hands, if you need, but I will not demand." Unlike Bond, whose words have a weight, Gawain's have a lightness. He can be trusted not to misuse these swords, at least based on 'initial gutfeel of who he is'.
Lilian Rook	Lilian shakes her head affirmatively at Tamamo, but she still seems conspicuously 'discomforted' in a sense here. Almost sort of dazed. She can't quite stop staring at Sakura for long, and their eyes catch frequently and mirror mutual confusion. "No, no. These people have their own way of doing things besides. It's not like we'll need another wifi password." she says, half-heartedly attempting a casual air. "They'll probably want to bring that smith apprentice, I suppose. But that's fine. The 'global village kit' has metalworking needs regardless. And it seems like the only divinity these people are concerned with is, well, their 'divine child'." Sakura faintly blushes, awkwardly. She also patiently corrects Rin. "As far as it can be said, the blades 'know' their possessor's loyalties. It isn't good enough to only divide them up between individuals, but between likeminded groups, and unfortunately, most would sooner run away with one, never mind three, or even five. Even if they resisted the grip of the swords' grip on their mind, the power and value of owning one is too much for those who mind pride or wealth; the most honourable swordsmen would kill each other gladly for the mere prestige of wielding one." Muramasa, in the moments he examines the black sword with its gold blade, and the white sword with its red blade, suffers a moment of unnerving deja vu bordering on nausea. The materials, the methods, the place and time of their manufacture, indeed have the disorienting effect of glimpsing the notes of a future, wiser, crazier self, which he can only just understand, but more than that, what it means to create these two sinks in like ice cold water soaking through his clothes. These are the forty-third and forty-fourth swords. 'A sword that severs beginnings', preventing something from ever coming about, and 'a sword that severs endings', preventing some conclusion from ever being reached. So close, but not good enough. Good enough for what? Sakura sighs in relief at his answer. "Hearing that from yourself is a great weight off my shoulders, Muramasa-dono." Again with out of date titles. "You are right. Those 'sword hunts' were of course pretexts to attempt to seize as many of the Grave Blades as possible. Nobunaga, to unite the country through force, Hideyoshi, to maintain his rule, and the Meiji government, to enforce the . . . What is it the westerners call it? 'Masquerade'?" She barely gets through the English pronunciation. "I have my own . . . My own feeling, about what it is he sought. So, I too, wish to find it. As soon as can be." Sakura says, bowing her head a little.
Lilian Rook	"All the more reason to be quicker about it next time." Lilian replies flatly to Bond. "An ounce of prevention and a pound of cure." Seemingly sensing something about the subtext of that exchange, Sakura hurries to answer, rather than taking her time to think. "I-it's not like that!" she insists. "This isn't-- They're not an evil person. They're going to do something bad, but they don't know it. It's--" She turns to Arthur and Tamamo especially. "Oda Nobuko. You know her. She usually carries the Muramasa of Bonds, but ever since their clan gained the Muramasa of Separations, she's been training with it, hoping to perform a particular feat. One which you can't allow to succeed." She trails off, growing quiet, hands in her lap, when Strawberry pipes up, looking a little deflated. "It's true. They won't want to give them up. Worse, different clans have different amounts to gain or lose, and those who are left until last will gain much power. However . . . Even the Japanese people are stronger than they think they are. The time for those swords, when they were needed, is over. The old world, our new world, they can stand on their own two feet and walk forward without things like that." "My friends . . . Those who are much smarter and better at me than this, have devised several plans to reduce the danger and spread out the impact as much as possible. They were already planning this before you, so it's not as if you'd need to obtain forty-one yourselves. It's also probable that we won't need all forty-four at the same time to break the cipher anyways. But some people will be very upset all the same. It's a position of great honour and trust, as well as a recognition of one's abilities, to be bestowed with a Muramasa sword even within the clan's main family. Taking those from their wielders . . . It's more than a matter of clinging to power, but a matter of spirit. Recognition, self-esteem, heritage, and loyalty to the clan." "But the curse-- not the curse of fours, but the curse those swords are upon this age, can't be broken if we worry too much about their feelings. Most of them are tough people. They won't break just like that." Making a more pleased noise when she comes back to Tamamo, Sakura explains "Ah! Of a kind. Um, there are some kinds of accommodations that my friends need. But for myself . . . I'm told that I shouldn't wander outside of special places for me. Not just because of having the swords, or being related to them, but because of other things . . . People would want from me. Your 'Warp Gate' isn't good enough, I'm afraid." Sheepishly, she adds "I asked. But they won't let me come here unless it's safe and secret."
James Bond	>This isn't an evil person. "It's very rare that people like me are sent after truly evil people," he says plainly. There is a certain resignation in this. It darkens his expression and is plain in his voice, and when he shifts, there is a glance towards Lilian, and then Strawberry. "Visionaries, revolutionaries, firebrands." Aging functionaries with dangerous knowledge, bothersome politics and younger, more useful replacements. Burnouts, like Onyx Witch. Every so often--enough to fool the unfortunate--a dangerous cult personality with a superweapon. All of these people threaten upheaval of some sort--and this, more than the danger their actions pose, is why those like Bond are sent out to 'handle' them. "Sometimes people do give up dangerous things," he says, with a meaningful glance towards Strawberry. "But your friend has something in mind with these swords. Moreover, there's your points about what the swords mean. Esteem. Spirit." "Those things are hard to find. And people don't give them up when they think they've found them. I'm sorry. Really." For what it's worth, he is.
Gawain	Gawain thinks over the fact that the swords know loyalties, and nods. But when they mention Oda Nobuko, and 'she's not an evil person', he moves over to interject at Bond. "That doesn't mean we just kill her. We need to try and convince her, first. Or...steal it, as a second resort, which I'll leave to you. But if she's not aware of what she will do, killing her should be a last resort." Gawain gestures to the others. "Right?"
Hellwarming Trio	Utsuho: "So she's talking about a figurative orphan? Huh..." Rin: "Oh, like orphaned tools without masters! Hm... But we can't just split 'em up because they gotta be in different groups, too?" Utsuho: "This would be way easier if we could just blow them up..." Rin: "Yeah, but then everyone'd get mad and know it was us." Utsuho: "I know, I know. And Master keeps telling us to learn how humans do stuff... But won't we get blamed if they get broken by someone else, anyway?" Rin: "... Hey! You all better know we don't wanna break these swords!" As Rin starts freaking out over a hypothetical that (probably) hasn't even occurred yet, Utsuho finally starts lounging on the ground while still eyeing the present blades. "Still, we can take three later, right? It's not like me or Rin would use those things, anyway. We already got these, so..." As Utsuho speaks, she raises her hand and flicks out a few small sparks that expand into small, bright orbs. They spin slowly as they travel through the room, circling around Sakura's head for a moment before dispersing into harmless sparks once again. "And this Oda... Well, what if we just grab them from her when she's not looking? We can just... Ugh. Beat her up when she has a bunch, then throw them into the ocean until everything else is ready." Utsuho's sounding just a bit winded already, as though trying to think up non-violent solutions for so long has finally taken its toll on her head. Sakura's talk of being restricted to her own places, meanwhile, has Rin's eyes lighting up. "Then why don't we just dress ya up so they don't know it's you? Yeah, we get you a mask, a different set of clothes, and then I can cart ya around in my wheelbarrow!" She starts excitedly, pausing for a moment to sniff her own sleeve and wrinkling her nose a bit. "... And I can even clean it up some before ya get in so there's no leftover bits inside."
Muramasa	So that's how it is ... a sword that slices apart where it all starts, and a sword that cuts away the ending. In the former, it'd be more like something that turns it all back to zero. Without the beginning -- nothing comes after nothing. A sword that can open the way to the future, all that leaves are the past and present. But if you found neither of those teneable, or the results they could bring well enough, then a sword like that could also be considered a failure. He understood that well enough. Myoujingiri was a sword that cut could through cause and effect, leaving only the result. But it had not been what he desired, either. Leaning forward slightly, he casts his gaze to the diagram of the Grave Series. Each one had a distinct shape, a distinct make, a distinct purpose. Each one carried part of the puzzle, too. The nauseous feeling finally passes as he breathes out airily; just how many of his marbles did the Sengo Muramasa of this world wind up losing over the course of his unlife? "Also, while it's very nice to feel like a respected elder -- you don't have to worry about the formalities. You can even call me gramps," he chuckles, jokingly. "...why am I not surprised that it's one of Nobunaga's?" The look on his face quickly morphs into one of extreme annoyance, as if to say, 'can't that person pick up after their own mess?' ... but it's not like he could be that mad. The Nobunaga running around now had no connection whatsoever with the Oda clan of this world. "Something she can't take back ... the westerners say that the way to hell is through good intentions. Sometimes, I suppose it's the case." That the Meiji had wanted to seize the Grave Swords for the purpose of hiding the existence of the supernatural did not shock him, even if it left a churlish feeling in his chest. He ponders the situation a moment more. He wanted to ask about just what she thought of the 45th sword, but, he had the feeling they didn't have much longer to talk, and his curiosity had to be put on the back-burner for now. "Bonds and Seperation ..." If the trend followed that every Grave Sword cut something that could not normally be cut, as well as the monikers, then ..the Muramasa of Bonds could sever the ties that bind. To people. To places. And the Muramasa of Seperation ... "Ah.." "That's why it can't be taken back." He did not have the full picture, but he understood enough to have an idea of what this Oda must want. "..she's training to draw out the potential of those swords. That means we only have as long as it will take her to do so in order to stop 'that' from happening. I'd ordinarily like to ask you about many things, but since time's not on our side.." He would prefer not to kill her. But the longer they took to act, the less likely they would be to stop her without doing so.
Strawberry Princess	Strawberry's eyes linger on Lilian for a moment, after she notices the strange tension between her and 'Sakura'. Lilian can tell the future too, can't she? Is this... some kind of feedback loop? Should I be worried? She reaches over and gently touches her friend's upper arm during one of the miniature fugues, hoping to snap her out of it. Soft concern is written on her face. Bond's words, she takes in a wholly different way than he intends. His remark about not being sent after truly evil people makes her smile, briefly- he's right, Onyx Witch wasn't evil deep down. ... When he continues on to specify "visionaries, revolutionaries, and firebrands", she finally flinches. Gawain and Arthur's words sober her further. Her lips are pressed together; eyes cast downwards. "I don't think... I'm not good. At fighting people. But- because it's really important, I think I can try. You'll- understand, I hope, if I can't do much." A helpless little open-mouthed smile, simultaneously chagrined and uneasy.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Hold the phone, that was phrased in a fucky way Arthur cocks an eyebrow. "Damn." He mutters. "That 'SOMETHING THEY CAN'T TAKE BACK' bit sounds like you got SYMPATHY for what's comin' up. I ain't good at SOFT HANDS, how MELANCHOLIC we expectin' this biz to be? I'll get up in that shit and SOLVE IT, but, I mean, only so much some SPACE MAGIC can do. We lookin' to do some REGRET REDUCTION?" He leans forward, a bit more attentively. "Probably ain't gonna be HOLDING THAT BLADE unless you can find me some shit that SEVERS EXPIRATIONS or whatever, but I'll get it out of the HANDS. But... NOBUKO?" >Arthur: So, what happens if that's not stopped? "Yeah, I wanna know the DISASTER I'm goin' after. I been helpin' out the ODAS more than a lil' bit, and it's 'cause they got GOOD HEADS on GOOD SHOULDERS." He says, rocking back and forth a few times. "NOBUKO ain't gonna do some BIG EVIL on purpose. Or, shit, might not even do a ton of risk. Gonna do a MUTUAL EXCLUSION kind of thing with BONDS and SEPARATIONS? I mean... I gotta hear THEIR SIDE, at some point." Arthur crosses his arms here. "I like this SWORD QUEST, but I ain't about to GANK A HOMIE with GOOD INTENTIONS. Not until I hear what she's got to say about this too. Maybe take a look myself at what goes on." Sunglasses come off for now, to rub his face. "Mannnnnn. Politics! I hate it! I hate politics. I always gotta fight some guy with good intentions who I been helpin'. Ah well. At least the Odas seem like cool dudes who'll kind of, y'know, get it."
Tamamo	Tamamo gives Lilian a brief Look, but continues on without addressing the, especially for Lilian, unusual reaction. "Ah, young Oda Nobuko. I do recall her. Fearless and energetic, as I remember. It would be difficult to convince her of an unseen danger. She is quite the model of the samurai spirit." Turning her head toward Muramasa, Tamamo asks, "Have you thought of what she might do, then? Of severing both bonds and 'separations,' I have at mind that one might be attempting things quite unsuited for blades. Swords are, if you would pardon the criticism, a crude and unsuitable tool for manipulating the tangled threads of Fate, the joinings and separations of all that are." At her latter explanation, Tamamo gives Sakura a gracious nod and warm smile, the previous, concerned look falling away at once. "Of course, I foresee that it shall be no trouble. Please make yourself comfortable." That this invitation includes a reasonable number of followers is implicit. "I would wish no risk of harm to any residing here." But back onto those more serious topics, "All the clans consider themselves the legitimate owners of the blades in their possession, having recognized no inheritor. I shall investigate such impending disaster as I may, make my own readings, and provide advice to those who will listen. I may, if necessary, be forceful in my speech. If it comes to a matter of determined disagreement, and I may stop the Oda only by force... then I shall not." It's not that her tone is particularly harsher, but there's a light in her golden eyes, and that note of certain finality, of the line being clearly drawn. "Only in matters under the jurisdiction of Heaven shall I declare my own authority greater than Man. Is this well understood?" To all present, preferably, but mostly to the one requesting her help.
Lilian Rook	Sakura mostly just seems . . . kind of sad, hearing Bond talk. Somehow it seems like she knows exactly what he means. Or, like an incredibly sensitive animal of some kind, absorbs his feelings without needing the words. She speaks up more gladly when Gawain does, and when the others join in. "Y-yes. Everything would be much, much better, if you could get the sword normally. The Muramasa of Separations isn't 'hers', but it's important, because she's the only woman in the whole clan to get one, so it means a lot that they'd recognize skill like hers, and she's very serious about it now." The way Sakura talks sounds like she knows from first hand experience somehow. It's almost kind of creepy. "I really don't want anyone to get hurt. I hate hurting people even indirectly like this. But it's very, very important that she not keep it. The elders-- That 'needle' you found, on their skirmish exercise. They didn't send it to Yamato. They kept it. And they want her to--" Lilian startles to attention long enough to interject "How do you know about that?" Only for Sakura to freeze up like she's said too much, and then wilt into saying "S-sorry. I can't . . . I'm not allowed to say.", thus killing the rest of her answer to Arthur's very important question. Only somehow less mortified than suggesting that she call even another world's Muramasa 'gramps', read evident in her expression. She allows him to handle the scroll she'd ostensibly been painting. What stands out more than the number of strange-looking swords is the fact that she hasn't rendered them like a smith would, in correct, orthogonal dimensions and measured fittings, but from slight angles, with apparent lighting, like she'd been painting them as a still life. Like she could see them. "Please. I don't think she deserves to be hurt. She will be no matter what, by the elders, when we take that sword away, so not any more than that, if you can help it." Lilian jumps a little --extremely unusual on its own-- when Strawberry touches her arm. Her attentiveness waxes and wanes with the erratic rise and fall of Sakura's presence, trading off in tidal currents when the girl stares at her pictures and falls silent, like somehow the room can't hold both of them at the same time. "Mmh? No I'm-- It's fine. I just feel like . . . There's something on the tip of my tongue. And it's beginning to drive me crazy." she half-murmurs to Strawberry. Finally looking very pleased with everything, Sakura sighs with unveiled relief at Tamamo, and squeezes her hands together gladly. "I'm so glad you understand. I really am so happy that I met you all. And it's been nice to be able to talk on my own. Even if it's difficult to . . . Find the words. I really admire what you're doing here in my home country; if there's anything within my power to see it through, I will make every effort to."
Lilian Rook	When she breathes out again, she somehow manages to deflate that petite frame in a way perceptible under all those layers, genuinely seeming quite tired. "Ah . . . There's just the matter of leaving a sword here. If it's just one, then whether you obtain one or two, there's no problem. Please." The longer she talks the more tired she sounds. The words resonate with the implied intent of leaving someone to choose, but it's at that moment that Lilian seems to grasp the edge of what she was complaining about to Strawberry. Reaching around her neck, she withdraws and unhooks the pendant that looks like iron and red ruby, and the fey glamer falls away from it immediately, trails of black smoke and rippling air forming around the full length that she places on the flat of the table like a hand of cards. A western sword which looks like dark iron and polished black glass, with an edge of near invisible gossamer, its surface etched with endless lines like vines and blooms looping forever into knots and fractals, currently dark, and with scarlet cord woven into its grip. Being placed in mere proximity to the two heavily wrapped swords, only Muramasa having 'seen' their true shape, Night Mist jumps, once, with a sound like someone had hit the table from beneath with a knee, and the Muramasa of Endings rattles in time on the top rack. The two girls, at exactly the same time, say: "That one." "This one." and automatically reach for it simultaneously. Both hands briefly on the same sword at the same time, where Muramasa would expect to see his own signature, anyone can briefly see, illuminated through the hilt wrappings, three lines of text instead, though only he and Tamamo have the ability to read it. Despite its many strange choices of characters, it can be read as: I see pure white snow. The pale river runs backwards. The first breath of life. Something in bright red briefly glows in unison along where the 'tang' would be in Lilian's sword, though since it is old Gaelic, only she could read it. Though it definitely happened, the weird moment passes almost as quickly as it hadn't. Sakura scoops up the remaining two like an old stuffed toy, sighing again with excruciatingly palpable exhaustion. "Thank you . . . Very much for all of your . . . Time and care. I hate to be the one to . . . When this is your place, after all, but . . . I was up all night, and I believe it's caught up to me."
Muramasa	Muramasa's mouth parts slightly as he watches, before ultimately he snaps his jaw shut, along with his eyes. That poem. He could only presume he'd read it correctly -- the choice of the characters used were unusual, but it was certainly more than legible. That they'd reacted that way, and with Lilian and 'Sakura' reacting the way they were as well, it was as puzzling as it was troubling. And while he could not read the gaelic on Lilian's end, he was not so daft as to not recognize that it surely must be the sword mentioned in the story she'd told him not too long ago, and that it had found its way down to her. Breaking himself from his thoughts, Muramasa sucked in a breath and shook his head, "No, don't worry about it. Please get some rest, we'll see to our accomodations, won't we?" He smiles at his companions. That he knew it wouldn't quite reach his eyes, as troubled as he was, could perhaps be why he kept them closed. "Besides, I've been itchin' to go get in the hotspring ever since I was told I could come on this trip." And it seemed he'd have much to occupy his mind as he soaked, he supposed.
Strawberry Princess	The needle-- Separation-- Bonds-- Lilian Rook says, "A nightmare I had as a little child... Blue like black, and white like red. Thunder that was words. Everything points in and down is outside." Strawberry's eyes snap wide open. For several seconds, she's visibly wracking her brains, trying to fit together puzzle pieces that shouldn't connect. Then she pushes herself back from the table, stands up, and nods to Sakura. "I'm- sorry. I need some air." She only catches the happening with the swords by glancing back over her shoulder as she leaves, but the significance of that spectacle flies utterly over her head. Outside, Strawberry leans against a tree, fumbling in her pockets briefly for something that isn't there. She pulls out two tablets of white gum instead, popping them into her mouth and chewing. Something's given her the shakes, but she doesn't look like she's reached a concrete conclusion yet.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: The needle? That's relevant, isn't it? Are you fucking kidding? Absolutely. And Arthur has to connect those dots. Bond-severing with the needle must create a mass disaster, right? Shit. Shit, Arthur worries, this is starting to have a clear scale to it and that scale is massive. On one hand, the idea is sound in a way, if this Earth is a free-floating dimensional vessel and the antegent-source is low-inertia. But Arthur doesn't know nearly enough to estimate. Instead of estimating, he just grinds his teeth in a stressed way. "Love to get fucked over by stratified social power authorities tryin' to be the solo source of solutions." He grumbles, rubbing his face. "I'll figure it out, I'll--" >Arthur: REMEMBER. Arthur slams both hands on the table and stands up instantly.